


haunted

by tsaritsas



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Angst, Sad, mention i mean, thats all i have for this, trigger warning for little palace battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsaritsas/pseuds/tsaritsas
Summary: nikolai comes to check on zoya because he thinks something is wrong.–––––i have no idea what this is I'm sorry
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov & Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Kudos: 53





	haunted

“Zoya!”

She blinked, bringing herself back to reality as the carriage shook along a road that belonged to nowhere. She took notice of her surroundings, double-checking to make sure she wasn't back in her thoughts anymore. The walls of the carriage were still of red velvet and not black and silver, the seats still made of light grey cushions. She could see the snow-covered pine trees through the window, the green of the needles peeking through. 

“Nazyalensky?”

She turned her attention forwards, finding herself staring into the warm hazel eyes of her kings. He had too serious of an expression on his normally smiling face. 

“Yes, your Highness?”

“Did something happen?” he asked, lightly touching a hand to her arm, causing her to freeze for just a moment. She pulled away from him quickly, placing her hand on her other arm. 

“Why would you assume that?”

“You seemed quite lost in thought. I thought something might be worrying you.” 

She turned her attention towards the window, staring out at the winter scenery. “Nothing is worrying me,” she lied, “It's just been a long journey is all.”

“Is that all?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you sure?” he asked, resting his chin in his hand as he leaned towards her. He gave her a quick look up and down. “We can stop if you need it. I can get you something to eat or drink.” 

“No need to worry,” she assured him. “We should get back to the capital anyhow. Genya and David are waiting for us.” 

He sighed, leaning back against his side of the carriage. She took a glance at him once his gaze was focused on the window. The dark circles under his eyes had worsened. She could still see the gold around the centre that dissolved into the dark brown of his hazel eyes. It still had the sparkle in it, which she was glad had stayed. A sign his optimism was still present even though the situation of their country looked grim. 

How long would they last pretending it was all okay?

–––––

They spent the rest of the ride making small talk and discussing possible trade deals they could make with the Kerch. All of it amounted to nothing, as they as a country had nothing to offer. But discussing it didn't hurt, especially with the new technological developments that scientists were making in labs. One day maybe, they could be back on their feet. 

One day. 

When they arrived back at the palace, Nikolai and Zoya went their separate ways. She went back to her chambers, ate dinner, sat on her couch flipping through papers having to do with her students at the Little Palace. All of it to try and keep her mind off of worse things. 

Things Nikolai now suspected. 

How could she have slipped like that? In front of anyone, let alone him. 

But now that the topic was in her mind again, her thoughts seemed to unwillingly drift back. To the day the fold had expanded, the day she had run back to her town to find everything and everyone she knew had been killed for nothing other than the Darkling's thirst for power. The massacre at the Little Palace that had killed all of her friends and people she didn't know but still mourned for. Because she could have saved them. She had fought her battles and fought as best she could, but still it resulted in nothing. What could she have done differently? It was something she pondered every night. If only–

A knock came from her door.

She sighed. “What do you want?” She sounded a lot more defeated than she wished. She walked toward the door, already resenting the person who had come to her at this hour. It was almost midnight. “If you have more forms,” she turned the doorknob, “just leave them outside.” 

Her eyes widened as she realised Nikolai was the one waiting there, holding nothing except what looked like a fresh cup of hot tea that smelled of cinnamon. He looked less like her king and more like a commoner, in nothing but pyjama pants and a sleep shirt, blond hair messy as if he had run his fingers through it too many times. 

He grinned at her. “May I come in?” 

“The sun set eight hours ago.” She opened the door for him anyway. 

“I'll take that as a yes,” he said, walking in and glancing around the room. He took a seat on her couch, setting down the cup of tea on the coffee table. “I thought you might want some. I put some honey in there, no sugar or milk.” 

He remembered. 

“Nikolai,” she accused, crossing her arms after turning to face him, “why are you here?” 

“Is a king not allowed to see his general anymore?” He leaned back into the cushions, making himself at home. Just great.

“Not this late, he isn't.” 

“Dear Nazyalensky,” he put a hand to his heart, “you hurt me.” 

“And I will do it again,” she rolled her eyes, walking closer to the couch. “Why are you here?” 

His eyes began to calculate the room around him. “I told you,” he said, “I wanted to see you.” He smiled, though this time it was less genuine, which he didn't seem to realise.

She walked closer to him, giving her signature glare. “Why,” she asked curtly, “are you here?” 

“I'm just checking on you,” he said, smiling again, “seeing how you are.”

“Late at night.”

“Plenty of people would beg me to be in their chambers at this hour.”

“Enough with the bullshit,” she retorted, throwing her hands up in frustration before crossing her arms again. “Checking on me why?”

“You,” he said, worry coming through his voice. “You seemed like something was troubling you. In the carriage.” 

“Why is that any of your concern?” She snapped as she turned away from him, picking up her papers and walking urgently across the room. “I've said nothing to indicate I'm anything other than fine.” 

Nikolai paused for a moment to stand up and walk over to her. He stopped when he was only a few inches away from her, placing a warm hand on her cheek and tilting her chin up so she could meet his eyes. 

“Zoya,” he said, quiet but firm, “I know that isn’t true.” 

She stood frozen for a moment or so, distracted by the comfort that came with his hand cupping her cheek. For just a second, she felt the sudden urge to lean into it, to drop her defences for once and just fall into him. But she snapped back to her senses, stepping back so he was no longer so close to her. 

Because who knew if he would catch her anyway?

Hurt began to fill his gaze as she stared at him from a foot away, feeling a pang where her heart was. Her memories of every day she had battled, fought, lost someone, came flooding forward. A lump began to rise in her throat, her eyes starting to prickle as an unwelcome heat came to her cheeks. She held her papers tighter, lower her gaze, pushing past Nikolai to set the papers down on the coffee table. “Go,” she demanded, her voice weaker than she had anticipated. 

“Please.”

She turned to Nikolai, the tears welling in her eyes. She did her best to blink them back as she looked at him. His gaze turned from hurt to shock as he saw her condition, finally, switching to one of a sad sort of compassion and something else she thought looked like protectiveness, though she was probably making it up. How did she slip in front of him, let him see her like this? It was the one mistake she had promised herself she would never make. 

He pleaded to her, the pain seeping through his voice, “Let me stay.” 

“I said to  _ go _ .”

“Dammit, Nazyalensky!” Nikolai shouted that part, bringing all of her attention to him. “How do you survive?” he then asked. “Every day we get more terrible news, and you voice only of its inconveniences. Never the worry it caused anyone, just how it puts off more important tasks. I ask how you are after hearing it, and you tell me you’re perfectly okay.” 

He didn’t understand, he never would. He was a king, who grew up with everything, who always had someone to talk to. He was never stupid enough to voice his worries to the whole of Ravka, but he had the assurance that those in his inner circle would always be there to listen and never use it against him. 

He took a deep breath. “We currently have a monster who’s caused you unbearable amounts of pain living in a dungeon in the Palace, and yet you act as if nothing has changed.” 

“I have to!” She yelled, marching up to him as tears streamed down her face.“I have to,” she repeated quietly. "If I don’t then who will? If we are all consumed by dread, we can’t work, and if we can’t work,” she began to punch his chest, though she was too tired to do any damage, “then nothing gets done and we never stop worrying.” Her voice finally started to crack. “Everyone will have to go through what we did, and no matter how much you distract yourself with your work, it will come back to haunt you every day of your life–”

Zoya felt herself crash against Nikolai, his arms suddenly wrapped tight around her. She exhaled and felt the tension in her shoulders release, pressing her forehead into his chest as she finally let the tears fall free. A rush of emotions rose to the surface, causing her to fist her hands in his shirt to ground herself because she could no longer hear her own thoughts. Her breathing was still erratic as she felt him press a kiss to her hair.

“My ruthless Zoya,” she heard him murmur. 

She sobbed, interrupting her usually silent cries, and felt her legs buckle, half from long-term fatigue and half from the overwhelming memories and feelings that had suddenly claimed her senses. One of Nikolai’s arms moved under her knees as he picked her up and held her against him. She felt too much right now, his arms around her the only thing bringing her comfort. She would remember the next morning that this was not proper, for her to feel this warmth and safety with Nikolai, for him to even be there at all. But right now she could not think; she could only feel his arms around her, the security she felt after dealing with so much danger that she didn’t know if she would ever feel it again. Her eyes were closed as she cried, and she didn’t bother to ask where he was taking her or why he had carried her because then she would have to hear her own weak voice when she would rather just let the tears fall silently anyway. 

He set her down somewhere soft, she realized he sat her on what she realized were her blue couch cushions. She reached for the pillow closest to her, clutching it to her chest. She felt Nikolai sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. Zoya rested her tear-stained cheek on his shoulder. She let go of the pillow, wrapping her arms around his torso almost instinctively, moving closer so she could lean back against him. His other arm came around her, his hand moving to rest in her hair as she nestled her face in his neck, his fingers running gently through her midnight-dark waves. 

“In the carriage,” she breathed, “I thought about if I had been one of them.” 

He continued tracing patterns with his finger up and down her arm. “One of who?” 

“The ones at the Little Palace.” She told him, her voice breaking as she remembered all her friends, the ones who never got to see her now. “There were too many.” There was no battling the monsters, though they did try to fight; it just mattered how fast you could run from them. She thought of lively Marie, who had gone too early. “It could have easily been me. And yet I was lucky. And still, we lost too many even with all they did to try and survive.” She wondered what her friends would say if they saw her now, a leader of Ravka. A girl who had helped build up a country again. A girl who had survived, despite the odds that had been stacked against her. A girl who was still here, somehow, and she didn't know how or why. 

Nikolai tightened his grip on Zoya. “I had to watch my brother bleed out,” he exhaled. “It haunts me every day, knowing that if we had time to get him proper care, he may have lived. Without an arm, yes, but lived nonetheless.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I used to dwell on that,” he told her quietly, “But we are not the ones who caused all of it. The violence, the torment, the chaos. That was the Darkling, not us.” He pressed a light kiss to Zoya's forehead. “We are the ones who made it through.” 

For a while, they sat together in silence, tangled in each other's arms for the comfort they had both been craving, knowingly or not. Nikolai continued to stroke her hair, soothing her aching heart and her racing thoughts, occasionally pressing a kiss to her hair as she held onto him for dear life. Time no longer felt relevant, the night dragging on, and eventually, they were both tired of waiting for it to end. Better to rest, ease their minds for once. 

She welcomed sleep when it came. And just before she drifted off, she felt Nikolai’s lips against her forehead. 

“My dearest,” he whispered, the last thing she heard. 

It was the first time in months that she finally slept easy. 

**Author's Note:**

> providing eye bleach once more


End file.
